


Connecting the Stars

by Thestarlitrose



Series: Connecting the Stars [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam still has his powers, Adult Warlock and Adam, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), F/F, F/M, God is a Grandmother, God lives on earth, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other, She likes the pastries, Warlock has terrible parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-06-08 18:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: A series of related one shots based off of a headcanon I wrote on Tumblr that morphed into something huge.Each one shot is complete and focuses on a different event in the lives of Adam, Warlock, Crowley and Aziraphale.The story of Adam and Warlock, and of Crowley and Aziraphale.  With a bit of the rest of the gang thrown in when needed.





	1. Of Tea, Biscuits and Nice Days

**Author's Note:**

> This was the Original Headcanon I came up with that hasn't been able to leave me alone since. 
> 
> https://aziraphalesrarebooks.tumblr.com/post/185908757758/does-anyone-else-have-a-lot-of-feelings-about
> 
> The entire series will be connected to this idea.

It was a few mornings after the apocalypse that wasn’t.

Adam had enjoyed the last few days with Dog and the Them, as always, his parents had quickly relented restriction.

They were back to their old selves, mostly.

Adam was still very aware of what had occurred.

He knew that he had both began and abruptly stopped the apocalypse.

He knew that he had turned away his real father and had injured him enough to leave him be for quite some time. By denying him, he had lost all power over him.

The unexpected result however, was that he still had the ability to change things. It felt different than it had before, before it felt like there were millions of voices screaming in his head, threatening to take over.

Now, well, he felt like his old self, but things still seemed to bend to his will.

It was strange, there was a small part of him that knew, if he really wanted to, he could get rid of it.

But, he was scared.

Scared there would come a day when he needed to do use his gifts, but for now, the occasional harmless trick couldn’t be _too_ bad.

Growing up in Tadfield had been a delight. He knew that a lot of it had to do with celestial forces who weren’t exactly competent trying and failing to interfere in his life.

He was aware things could have been very different had the nuns done what they were meant to have done.

He didn’t think he would be very happy if things had worked out like they were supposed to.

Instead though, he had the best parents who loved him dearly, and the best friends anyone could ask for.

There were neighbors who were like family; well, except for Mr. Tyler, he was terrible.

The shops and cafes all were filled with the best foods and snacks. The ice cream shop, while they didn’t have 32 flavors of ice cream, were all homemade daily and had an extra helping of love in each batch.

The town was filled with people who were good and kind and who he cared for dearly.

He and Dog were walking his bike towards Pepper’s house when his neighbor Ms. Kyrie stepped outside with her morning tea and waved to him with a knowing smile.

He was suddenly vaguely aware that he probably wouldn’t make it to Pepper’s this morning.

What exactly are you supposed to say to the person who made the best biscuits and always gave extra candy on Halloween and who, you are just now realizing also just so happens to be the creator of everything.

“Good Morning Ms. Kyrie…” he said uncertainly, “or should I call you something else?” He looked her up and down.

This was a strange development. He wanted to tell Wensleydale, he’d never believe it.

“Good Morning Adam, it is a lovely day today isn’t it?” She seems to pull another mug out of thin air and hands it to him. “Why don’t you sit down, I think there is much for us to discuss.”

Adam’s mind was racing, there was _so_ much he wanted to know. He _was_ curious after all.

He had questions, lots of them.

And she answered a few, smiled mysteriously over her mug other times.

They talked for a while, it was pleasant, but there was still something he needed to know.

He just wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” he looked at her pointedly, “Why Tadfield? And why, if I was supposed to destroy everything you made…” he paused, trying to find the right words, biscuit in hand, mug in the other, “why didn’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

She sighed and smiled at him, “Adam, you had to make the choice. It’s never been my decision. Well, not really. I had hoped you would make the choice you did, but I didn’t want to interfere. As for why Tadfield, well, I wanted to be close to _you_.”

He looked bewildered, “So you don’t want to kill me, just… be near me in case you have to?”

“Goodness, no! While I would never admit it to anyone else, well. I miss the way things were, I love Earth and I love the humans who live here but, I do miss my children. My first children. You have actually met a few of them.” She briefly looked sad, but her usual brightness returned.

“My original father, Gabriel and Raphael?” he pondered

“Yes, well, Raphael goes by another name now; Crowley. He always cared too much, he wasn’t meant for us to keep. He never would have been happy with us, you should visit him sometime. You could learn a lot from him. He thinks I don’t see him, but I do. He was always one of my favorite children.”

He nodded, he liked them. They were good people, his Uncle and his Husband. Tomorrow seemed like a good day to visit.

“They don’t know you’re here though, do they?”

She shook her head, “No, it’s best this way. It can be our little secret” she said, raising her eyebrow as she said it.

“Can I come back and see you?” he hoped he could, he had always been very fond of her, and well, now that he knew who she was, who she _really_ was, he wanted to visit more often.

“Of Course, I quite like it here and the company is nice” She smiled at him, a warmness in her smile that always made him feel loved. It was like a shirt fresh out of the dryer but on the inside. It seemed to linger for hours after you visited.

He knew why now.

He picked up another biscuit, sat down his mug and hoped on his bike, Dog barking happily after him. He turned and waved goodbye and was off.

It was a lovely morning; the sunrise had been particularly pleasing.

She had outdone herself today.

And it was always nice when the grandchildren stopped by.

It seemed like such a nice day, and it would be, she thought, it would be a lovely day for a drive to London, it might be nice to visit her favorite café and bookstore.

She was particularly fond of the owner after all.


	2. Of Old Books and Talking Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tries to be romantic but finds out Aziraphale has already been trying for quite some time. Confessions are made, God ships it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About a week or so ago, I stumbled on a tumblr thread by ForIneffableReasons that inspired me. Find that here: https://aziraphalesrarebooks.tumblr.com/post/186061918268/consider-crowley-courting-aziraphale-with
> 
> The book I used as reference is this:   
> https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31591

It seemed to Crowley that there were two defining moments in his life: The Fall and the Almost Apocalypse.

He could separate his long life into before and after his fall, and now the time before and after the world didn’t end.

A lot had changed, he and Aziraphale were… something.

He really couldn’t define what they were, but it felt different and new.

He had gained a nephew, and if he was counting, he supposed two honorary nephews and a niece. Then there was the witch Anathema and her partner, he even occasionally saw Warlock, not that the child realized who he was.[1]

In the last year, he had gained a family. They were… nice. They were more than he ever imagined he would have. They appreciated and cared for him and slowly, he was beginning to heal from his past and move forward, something he never thought he could do. His fall had damaged him in so many ways, turning him from the healer of humanity to a bitter and angry shell of who he once was.

It was a typical Thursday afternoon. Aziraphale had opened the shop for a bit, puttering around, mostly dusting here or there. Crowley had arrived a bit earlier than usual, he had nothing better to do and his plants were a bit too terrified... He had done too good of a job today and he had grown tired of hearing their leaves rustle.[2]

One of Aziraphale’s regulars had been earlier in the day, Crowley quite liked her. She was nice, annoyingly familiar though, he never could put his finger on it. She had brought pastries with her today, she often brought little goodies with her when she came up to visit the shop.

She was a lovely woman, and she seemed so fond of Aziraphale that the first time he had met her he had been a bit jealous. She had laughed and told him in no uncertain terms that Aziraphale was definitely not her type and he had nothing to worry about.

He had been mortified, blushed, stammered an apology and since then, they had formed a friendship of sorts. She would occasionally text him when she planned to come to the bookstore, other times she would ask him to meet her for coffee. He wouldn’t admit it, but he did enjoy her company. Especially since he knew she wasn’t flirting with his angel.[3]

She had been looking at some Victorian-era gardening books which had led her to pick up what was apparently one of Aziraphale’s favorite books. She never bought anything, just left what she was reading resting on the table next to one of the comfortable chairs towards the back of the shop.

Crowley had come in a little after she had, his plan had been to find a nice spot in the sun and nap for a bit until Aziraphale was ready to leave for dinner but the best-laid plans and all that. They had talked for a while, he had tried to give her some advice regarding plants before she left, she had told him that she wasn’t sure that was what they meant by talking to plants, but, he scoffed, what did _she_ know? The books she had been reading wouldn’t be a help at all.

He couldn’t help but notice what she had left behind.

The first two he had read years before, they were ridiculous. He hoped she didn’t listen to what they said, or she’d have a garden full of half-eaten plants.

The third book in the pile, he recognized as the one Aziraphale had gushed over. He had never known Aziraphale to garden which made him curious.

What would Aziraphale be doing reading a book about plants?

He picked it up and read the cover: _The Language of Flowers_ by Kate Greenaway. it wasn’t a large book, but it was well worn.

Hm. He knew his plants understood him, maybe there was a code to it?

To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

Plants _definitely_ couldn’t talk.

What a shame.

He was sure his gossiped about him when he left.

Pretty sure anyway.

_Could_ plants talk?

This book was no help in answering that question.

It did, however, give Crowley an idea.

He knew he couldn’t sneak the book out without Aziraphale noticing so he quickly snapped his fingers and it, along with the two gardening books were sent to his kitchen table.

Walking to the front of the store, he found Aziraphale with his glasses on and his nose in one of his new finds.

“Come on you, I’m ready to eat, hope you don’t mind but I borrowed a few of your books. Thinking I may be able to grow some of my plants even bigger than before!”

“As long as you take care of them my dear. What are you in the mood for tonight?”

“Hm, what about that new Thai place that opened up, haven’t you been wanting to try it?”

He almost put his arm through Aziraphale’s.

He wanted to, but he wasn’t sure what his friend would think.

The truth was, he was very much in love with his best friend and it was hell.

This _would_ be his eternal punishment.

To be in love with someone constantly out of your reach.

It burned him worse than the infernal flame ever had.

Those moments like tonight, when he ached to brush one of the angel’s curls out of his eyes. Or how when he was especially excited, like he currently was, he would have this brightness in his eyes. They were so pure and so beautiful it burned him.

He didn’t think himself a brave man, but he knew he had to do something.

He could pinpoint the exact moment he tripped and fell flat on his face, head over heels in love with the Principality.

He was interrupted by Aziraphale, what did he say?

“Hm...?”

“I said my dear, would you mind terribly sitting outside tonight? Or would you rather eat at a booth?”

“whatever’s fine with me.” Internally, he was panicking, hopefully, he hadn’t been too obvious in his musings.

The food was divine, no surprises there, they had rarely found a restaurant they didn’t like.

They had spent the rest of the night drinking in Aziraphale’s back room where they both passed out at some point during the night.

That morning, he had woken up before Aziraphale, no surprises there, he always claimed he didn’t sleep, and he probably didn’t sleep nearly as much as Crowley, but it never failed he would sleep to almost noon after a night of drinking.

He summoned a blanket and covered the angel up before driving home.

The first thing he did was read. It was a simple idea. Plants, especially flowers, meant something, a secret code!

Easy enough.

He felt a bit like James Bond, but with a cooler name.

_The name’s Crowley, Anthony Crowley._

He Snorted.

The problem he was having, however, was which plants he would pick.

There were so many different meanings and he had _so_ many feelings to choose from, but he had a few ideas. He ruffled his hair, this was going to be difficult.

He had a few of the plants already, but he would likely need to purchase a few others from a florist.

Aziraphale meant so much to him, how was he going to choose?

He needed to think, Aziraphale always seemed to love plants. He was truthfully a terrible gardener and had rarely been able to keep anything alive without his help, but he did love to look at the flowers.

Ah-ha!

He knew that Aziraphale loved Daffodils. He loved seeing them bloom each spring. Each year without fail, there would be Daffodils in a vase at the front of the shop.

He supposed he could start there,

_Daffodils. . . . Regards._

Daffodils were out of season though, what else did Aziraphale like?

Sunflowers, he had pointed those out to him once before on a trip to America. They had passed a giant field of them, they had been on a job, neither had been to America since the invention of the automobile and off they went.[4]

He had insisted on stopping and picking a few of the smaller ones. He had handed him one and smiled.

He remembered that particularly well, seeing Aziraphale standing in the golden sunlight, surrounded by a field of yellow, well, it had taken quite a bit to resist bending over and kissing him.[5]

He would never admit it to anyone, but he still had the sunflower, the petals pressed between one of the many novels Aziraphale had given him throughout the years.

He flipped to through the book until he found what he was looking for.

_Sunflower, dwarf . . . . adoration._

He squeaked. Surely not.

His ears had turned red.

_Definitely_ not.

Aziraphale probably didn’t even realize it.

Ok, he thought. Plants. What else does Aziraphale like?

The garden! He had done an alright job at the Dowling’s, granted Crowley had gone around making sure the plants knew their place each night before bed, but Aziraphale had done the planting bits.[6]

Speaking of, he made a mental note to visit Warlock. He was having a hard time lately, not that he could speak to him really, but he was very attached to his snake form.[7]

Now, he had to think back, what were those called, the ones _Francis_ had planted with Warlock. He had made a huge show of it. They had brought him out to the garden, Warlock had been so proud and truthfully, so had Aziraphale, the angel had practically blazed with pride after he complimented the new flower beds. 

And they had been nice flowers, plus it had worn out Lock which was always a good thing.[8]

The boy had been filthy but content when he came in that afternoon. He had talked about the flower beds for weeks, not very fitting for the antichrist.[9]

Ah! Red Tulips… what else?

Yellow Tulips too!

Blue violets, Purple lilacs… and something else.

Oh, and Red Carnations.

He took out a pen and paper to take notes,

_Red Tulips . . . . Declaration of Love_

_Yellow Tulips . . . . Hopeless love_

_Blue Violets . . . . Faithfulness_

_Purple lilacs . . . . First Emotions of Love_

_Red Carnations . . . . Alas! For my Poor Heart_

There was no way, he probably didn’t even realize it.

Right?

He looked over to where he kept his plants.

He most certainly was not panicking. 

Over the years Aziraphale had gifted him a few potted plants.

But he liked plants, it didn’t mean anything… did it?

Absolutely not panicking. 

There was the cactus he had given him one year for Christmas.[10]

And, that time he gave him a pot with amaranth which he adored. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but it was in his bedroom, under the window. It had lovely purple flowers that somehow never seemed to fade. 

_Cactus . . . . Warmth_

So, that wasn’t too bad.

Flipping the page until he found the right amaranth…

_Amaranth (Globe). . . . Immortality, Unfading Love._

Shit.

Surely not?

Maybe?

There had been other times too.

A hawthorn bush from 1903. He managed to keep it nicely pruned and he did love the blooms during the spring.

_Hawthorne . . . . Hope_

He was going to discorporate from embarrassment or murder an angel for not telling him sooner.

What was the angel playing at?

Had he really been trying to tell him something for this long?

He had told Kyrie that it was one of his favorites yesterday.

But why?

Surely Aziraphale hadn’t been hinting for this long?

His plan of wooing his angel had turned to shit.

If this was true, if Aziraphale really had been trying to hint at him for over a century using flowers of all things, then all those times he hoped, prayed, and wished that the angel could love him back, well, he’d probably been feeling the same.

They could have held hands already…

Or kissed!

Or… Crowley blushed crimson.

Best not go in that direction quite yet.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Aziraphale had picked flowers according to his feelings if one were to believe that Aziraphale had, in fact, been talking in the language of flowers.

There was an uneasy hope settling in his stomach.

On the paper in front of him, he began to make a list.

_Golden Rod . . . . Precaution_

_Hawthorn . . . . Hope_

_Daisy . . . . I share your Sentiments_

_Balm of Gilead . . . . Cure, Relief_

_Yellow Acacia . . . . Secret Love_

_Rosebuds, Moss . . . . Confession of Love_

_Dog Rose . . . . Pleasure and Pain_

_Ox-Eye . . . . Patience_

He couldn’t say it would be the most flattering of bouquets once arranged, but he was sure the florist could make it lovely.

He snipped several long cuttings from his hawthorn bush and wrapped them neatly in paper, gently waving his hand over the paper to make sure they stayed fresh.

The florist was incredibly helpful and was somehow able to get all his requested flowers for next day delivery. [11]

He also requested that a very nice box of chocolates from Aziraphale’s favorite chocolatier would be delivered at the shop at the same time as the floral arrangement.

Once he returned home, he collapsed on his bed, burying himself under the soft, heavy blankets.

It was done.

He was _terrified_.

He had been scared before; the apocalypse, realizing he was about to fall from grace, but now, it was different. He felt as though if tomorrow went badly, there was no hope of redemption.

He loved Aziraphale too much.

Rejection would be the end of him.

In truth, he’d rather drink holy water than never hear Aziraphale laugh again or see him smile after doing something he had truly enjoyed.

The morning came after a long night of restlessness.

He’d given up on sleeping around 2 AM, finally giving into the urge to be with the stars. 

He was sitting on his rooftop in the cool morning air, looking up at the stars that eventually faded into purples, pinks, and oranges before turning a deep blue. The morning was much too beautiful for a day that could end so badly. He hoped that was a good sign.

_“Please Lord, I cannot lose him. I can’t.”_ He whispered this, with every fiber of his being, hoping she was listening to him.

His heart was in his throat and he felt like he needed to be anywhere but there.

There was a castle in South Downs[12], one where he and Aziraphale had briefly stayed as guests. It was a place he often went in his dreams, it was one of the few places in the world that brought him peace.

He closed his eyes and the breeze changed.

He’d left his cell phone, not exactly meaning to go there, but ended up there all the same.

It had taken a lot out of him, but he walked. Remembering the festivities of a wedding long forgotten.

All his best memories featured the blonde angel.

He was always happier when Aziraphale was nearby.

It had been in the early 1600’s, they had gotten drunk and snuck out to the gardens where they’d allowed their wings to be out freely, unworried about other couples sneaking into the maze. They were too far in and too far gone to care if they were caught.

Aziraphale had laughed freely, unworried that he was drinking with his enemy.

Back then, he could be cruel. Insisting they were nothing more than an angel and a demon and that was that. He had loved Aziraphale, even then, but he knew there were times when the Angel loathed their friendship and was much too frightened to let himself really feel.

Somehow, he found himself standing in the garden. He hadn’t even realized he’d been walking. It was nearly 2 PM and he’d been lost in thought, walking the ruins of the once beautiful castle.

He wondered if perhaps he could hide.

Surely not knowing was better than rejection?

There was nobody around today, at least right then.

He looked around and where a man in dark glasses stood, there now was a snake.

He found a spot in the tall grass, and finally, let the sun lull him into an easy rest.

50 miles away, in a bookshop in Soho, an angel stood stark still.

Aziraphale had just received the most beautiful bouquet of flowers and there was little question to whom it was from.

He was, and it was quite a difficult thing to accomplish, speechless.

It had come out of nowhere.

Years he had tried and failed.[13]

And yet, here, in his shop, on his register counter, was a large arrangement.

He knew exactly what each flower meant.

He’d known for ages.

There was no doubt in his mind that Crowley loved him in some way, but he never imagined, never dared to hope he would return those feelings.

There had been times of course, but it never felt right.

He dialed Crowley’s number, no answer, just that blasted old fashioned answering machine that he loathed.

He growled, dialed again. No answer.

A different number this time, his cellphone.

It rang and went to voicemail.

Why wouldn’t he pick up?

Surely, he wasn’t nervous?

Aziraphale was getting anxious now.

He sent a message, _“Crowley, I’m worried. Please call me. The flowers were lovely, and I want to thank you for them. XX”_

He took a deep breath, and gently traced the blooms. Each delicate petal and leaf whispering messages of love to him.

Had he not been so worried, he would have swooned.[14]

His fingers lingered on the hawthorn, he could feel the love coming off in tendrils. He was certain it was the one he had gifted Crowley years before.

He quickly locked the shop door and without care or repercussion, landed directly at the door to Crowley’s flat.

He knocked.

Then, again.

“Open up Crowley right this instant! We _need_ to talk!”

He hmphed.

He knocked louder this time.

“Open the door you silly thing!”

There was still no answer.

He was done playing games.

Aziraphale nearly blew the door in with his frustration, only pausing a moment to miracle is back after his outburst.[15]

There wasn’t much in his flat, mostly plants of various kind. He did own a television and he had finally gotten a couch, leather, of course.

The bedroom was empty but had been used recently.

Where was his dearest friend? 

He finally reached the kitchen. There was a bottle of wine out and it looked like he had gotten into some of the lovely cheeses he kept on hand.

Beside the left-over food were three things: Aziraphale’s books, paper that had been written on and a few petals from one of his plants that looked to have fallen off during transport.

Aziraphale picked up the paper, on it were the names various flowers. Most he recognized as ones he had given Crowley throughout the years.

A tear fell down his cheek, landing on the paper in his trembling hand.

He had put it together.

And now he was gone.

He found his phone on the roof.

He could feel it still lingering; love, sadness, fear, hope. There was also just a tinge of the occult, he had gone somewhere, likely in frustration. 

He had to find him.

What he would say when he did, thought… that would be decided when he got there.

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

_Find Crowley,_ he prayed _, take me where he is._

The breeze changed, the feel of the air and its scent was different.

Familiar.

He knew this place, he had delightful memories of this place.

He’d almost kissed Crowley in the garden. It had been such a beautiful night. He often wondered what would had happen if he had only just…

The garden!

It had changed since his last visit, but the garden was set up in much the same manner as it had been all those years before.

He could feel his friend’s presence.

Where was he?

He had stopped near the center of the garden, he was sure he would have been here.

The scene of the crime as it were.

Aziraphale was looking around when he heard a wheeze followed by a soft breath.

He was snoring, he recognized that snore anywhere!

Looking down he spotted it. Weaved through a gooseberry bush, was a black snake with red markings.

He sighed and gently bent over to brush the top of his head.

The snake let out a half hiss and opened an eye, then suddenly both. It’s forked tongue sticking out in shock.

“Hello, my dear boy, I’ve been looking everywhere for you” He whispered softly.

The snake wiggled its tongue and blinked

“Crowley, we can’t talk like this.” Aziraphale sighed.

It seemed to be contemplating something.

Aziraphale gently stroked the snake’s long back.

It began to move, and there soon was a man standing there looking very uncomfortable.

“Did you know that bush you were napping so contently in means anticipation?”

Crowley turned to look at where he’d been napping, “Ahh, no. It was just comfortable. I didn’t sleep well last night…”

“You’re a demon, you don’t have to sleep, Crowley.” He said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I get tired! Temptations can wear a demon out!” he huffed, crossing his arms. He looked back at the angel, in a near whisper, “did you like your flowers?” He said this so quietly, so unsure of himself, Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure he said it at all.

He had turned away from Aziraphale, he wasn’t ready, and he was about to find out.

He felt Aziraphale softly touch his back, in the space between his shoulder blades, very close to the base of his wings.

This was it, he was going to turn him down and that was that. Crowley prepared himself for the worst, ready to pretend his heart wasn’t breaking into a million tiny fragments.

The soft hand moved down and back up, the other hand was suddenly on his chin, lifting his face up to meet Aziraphale’s. It brushed his cheekbone and then his lip.

Aziraphale’s voice was soft and so very quiet, “There have been so many times my dear, so many times I wanted you to know. I have loved you for so very long, I never hoped you would feel the same.” He paused, taking a deep, shaking breath, “I had prayed you felt the same, I have prayed to hate you, to not feel this way about a demon, and yet, I don’t hate you, and I do love you so very much.” Crowley whimpered, Aziraphale’s thumb still tracing patterns over his face. “When we saved the world… when Adam saved the world, once everything was over, I tried to find the courage to tell you, but I couldn’t. Had you denied me your love, there wasn’t a reason to continue. It sounds very silly, but I love you too much not to have you as my friend, to lose you would be too difficult.”

He gently took off Crowley’s sunglasses and placed them in his pocket.

Their faces were nearly touching, bodies pressed against the other.

Crowley finally moved, bringing his hands up to rest against the sides of Aziraphale’s face. “I can’t believe you’ve been giving me bloody plants for near a century and it was all in code!”

“Actually, my dear, it’s about a century and a few decades.” He grinned at the demon.

Crowley laughed, “I think had it happened sooner, I don’t think we would have survived. I think it had to be now, I’ve loved you for a long-time angel. So very long, and I’d quite like to put those lovely lips of yours to the test. Perhaps tempt a moan from them.”[16]

The garden was empty save for a blonde woman sitting in one of the large trees on the estate, reading an old novel and two very please celestial beings; an angel and a demon. She looked up and saw the two kissing one another quite passionately and looked back down at her novel with a pleased smirk. If you were to turn back around to look at her, well, she’d be long gone by then.

It seemed to Crowley that there were three defining moments in his life.

He could separate his long life into before and after his fall, the time before and after the world didn’t end, and now, all the time they wasted before the kiss, and the time to come.

[1] They had decided not to interfere with his life anymore, being a demon with the ability to turn into a snake helped. He could check on the boy without him knowing and did so often.

[2] It had been over an hour, he really hadn’t meant to scare them that badly. One of his begonias needed more sun, and while he would never let on that he put them on his porch, he never really put them down the disposal. It would be a waste, he’d worked damn hard getting them to grow beautifully. Satan be damned he would just throw it out.

[3] She would often tease him about Aziraphale, asking him whenever she saw him when she would get the wedding invitation in the mail. She had also not too subtly hinted that she was ordained and would love to marry the two.

[4] They had ended up driving from the coast of Charleston to Olympic National Park, all the way back to New York City to see a few shows before flying back home. The trip had been one of the best memories Crowley had. They had spent so much time together and it was one of the first times he really felt like Aziraphale might, just maybe love him just as much as he loved him. There had been a moment where Aziraphale was standing, posing for a photo, toes in the sand on the Isle of Palms, the sun glinting in his hair and in that moment, He didn’t think he’d ever looked more angelic. The ocean air had made his curls wild and it was almost blinding. He loved him so very much, and it had taken everything in him not to brush an errant curl out of his eyes and kiss him. He didn’t, he just smiled instead and snapped the photo, swallowing the burning love that threatened to break him.

[5] There had been about 4 times during the trip that Crowley had nearly given in and kissed his angelic best friend. Each time, the angel’s hair and bright eyes had nearly caught him on fire from lust and love.

[6] Warlock never understood why his Nanny would yell at the plants, in particular, the Willow tree they had planted near the creek towards the end of their property. She had mumbled once during a picnic with the Gardener that it had disappointed her wilting like that. He couldn’t see it, it was the greenest tree on the property.

[7] The child had just turned 12 and he suspected was being bullied at school. He had taken to sitting in the garden at night, reading, or worse, crying softly when he thought nobody was around.

[8] He had taken to calling him Lock, or Locky or if he was in trouble; Warlock Thaddeus Dowling!

[9] He was actually glad that Warlock wasn’t who he thought he was, the danger he would have been in made Crowley’s heart ache with worry.

[10] Crowley would never, ever admit it, but he loved Christmas. He had always been fond of that Christ fellow and he loved seeing Christmas lights. They reminded him a bit of the stars he’d once hung. Plus, temptations seemed easier at Christmas… and Aziraphale loved those awful sweaters.

[11] This was not Crowley’s doing, it was as if coincidence had it the florist had no trouble getting their hands on the exact flowers needed. Strange really.

[12] Cowdray Castle

[13] It had been all the rage at the time, it had taken Crowley asking for holy water to realize he loved him . It would be nearly 50 years later that he would realize that there was a good chance that Crowley did, in fact, love him back. It would take about 110 years for him to confirm this theory.

[14] He had actually swooned at first, quite a bit. He’d gone a bit weak in the knees when it was first sat down in front of him.

[15] Despite being an Angel, he could have a nasty temper when prompted and after several hundred years of pinning for his demonic best friend, he was thoroughly frustrated and quite ready to get on with it.

[16] Crowley would be the first to moan, quite loudly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has a scare, worried he is too much like his real dad, he runs away to see his Uncle Crowley. Fluff and brunch happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone pointed out that a child of 12 probably couldn't drive, or make it all the way to London even if he could.   
> I sometimes forget not everyone grew up driving on back roads since they were about 8. It's pretty common kids get to practice driving (illegally) on back roads and dirt driveways where I live and it didn't occur to me. However, he is the son of Satan and in this fic he very much still has his powers, just a bit more tame. if he wanted to make it to Crowley's flat, all he had to do was think it into being. Hopefully that clears up a bit of confusion on why I wrote a 12 year old driving and being able to accomplish it without being pulled over or getting into an accident.

Crowley had always loved children, he loved taking care of others whether he wanted to admit it or not.

It was what he was made for, after all, it was in his nature to nurture and heal.

It was what made him protect many of the children who would have drowned otherwise during the great flood, keeping them safely hidden within the bowels of the ark.

It was what made him such a wonderful nanny to Warlock, and it was precisely that reason that he was holding a sobbing antichrist in his arms at 2 am on a school night.

Adam was 12 now, his birthday had been only 2 weeks before. There had briefly been a fear something may try to interfere in the boy’s life again but luckily, nothing had happened as of yet.[1]

That’s why, when Crowley woke to banging on the door of his flat, he feared the worst.

They had kept in touch afterwards, partially to keep an eye on such a powerful being, partially because they truly liked the child, and on Crowley’s part, well, it was his nephew after all.[2]

The small boy had practically run past him and sit himself firmly on the couch until Crowley sat down beside him, promptly causing the boy to wrap his body around the demon and begin to sob.

It was nearly 2:30 am when Adam had composed himself enough to speak.

“I got mad you see, I… well I very nearly hurt Dog tonight. I’d never hurt Dog but he made me so very angry and,” he sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “I could feel it, I could hurt him, make it where he never existed, I could hurt him and it scared me.”

He looked so very small.

They had spoken with Adam about this, regardless of what he was not anymore, he still was the child of the king of Hell who happened to be a fallen Archangel. Crowley knew all too well how much power a fallen Archangel had, he could stop the sands of time and breathe life back into things once dead.[3] He still had his gifts and his power, and he knew that Adam had likely received many of his father’s gifts, regardless of his refusal to accept Satan as his true father.

He sighed, putting his hand on Adam’s knee, “You’re not like him you know, not even close.”

He closed his eyes, “He always had an odd way about him, he liked to cause trouble and then sneak back. Allow others to take the blame for things he started, but he was believable. S’what got me into the mess I’m in now I suppose.”

He looked back at Adam, who was clearly shaken and very upset at what had happened earlier in the night. “Anyway, what I’m saying is that he thrived on causing others pain, it was inevitable that he would fall. Granted, he never outright hurt anyone until the war but once we were in Hell, the things he did, had others do for him. I never could quite stomach it.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes, not wanting to cry but the emotion was threatening to spill out regardless. “I loved my siblings Adam, and I do still love your father, but he is cruel and thrives on it. You, on the other hand, sought me out when you thought anger would cause you to harm Dog.”

“I love Dog, he’s my best friend.” Said Adam, sounding more like a child than a preteen.

“I know Adam, you’re a good person.” He grinned mischievously, “You just happen to be a very powerful being who also happens to be about to go through puberty, from what I understand most teenagers get a bit tetchy and overreact”

The boys face then turned a bright red, “ Uncle C-Crowley!”

“Up you get, you need some cocoa and maybe a biscuit or two. Then, you’re going to tell me exactly how you got all the way from Tadfield to London, and on a school night no less! Your mother will be very worried if she finds you gone!” Crowley walked Adam into his kitchen and sat him down. This boy was going to keep him on his toes!

After a harrowing tale of “I borrowed dad’s car and just, well I just knew the way to you, Uncle Crowley, I had to see you! You said I could come over any time I needed you and I did” and “Can’t you just use your powers to take us back?” and his favorite, “Can’t you just use your demon skills and make them forget like Hermione? Can you use a wand? Can I use a wand?” He decided to call Deidre, let her know what was going on, and then he and Aziraphale would drive him down the next day.[4]

He had made Adam a bed on the couch, given him the remote and went back to bed. In the morning when he woke up, Adam would still be fast asleep. At 10:30 AM, Crowley would wake him up, have him change into the clothes he had miracled up and then would meet Aziraphale for brunch before making the drive to Tadfield.

The drive back would calm Adam’s still slightly worried nerves, it would also make Crowley love his nephew just a tiny bit more than he already did.[5]

Adam would be grounded for a week if they even made it last that long, because after all, he had learned his lesson and had promised never to do it again.

Years later, they would tell the story at one of their weekly dinners, where his husband would laugh and sweetly squeeze his hand under the table because there was no way his husband could harm anything, much less Dog.

[1] Aziraphale had attempted his magic act again, this time with the actual Antichrist helping his act along due to extreme secondhand embarrassment. Unlike his last birthday, the only dog to show up was Dog and he had spent the entirety of the party trying to steal the cake.

[2] His older brother was a dick but he still loved him. Sometimes anyway. 

[3] He and Aziraphale would need to have a talk soon, eventually. He dreaded it, they were slowly getting to the point where they were open with each other and he feared letting him in on his little secret could somehow damage the fragile relationship they were building.

[4] After the Apocalypse didn’t happen, Aziraphale and Crowley may have used a small bit of persuasion to make Deidre and Arthur Young believe they were good friends who also happened to be Adam’s Godfathers.

[5] While he would never tell Adam, he did remind him of his father in small ways, The Lucifer he was when he was still his big brother and not the twisted King of Hell he was now. Mostly in the facial expressions, when he discovered something new that he liked very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Prompt Requests or to just follow me, find me at AziraphalesRareBooks.Tumblr.com !


	4. Birthdays and Ginger Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Warlock's Birthday! He should be happy, he did get everything he wanted after all, but he is missing two very special people.

He was officially a teenager!

Thirteen years old today!

He should be happy, really, he should.

The party had been outstanding as usual, he had gotten everything he’d asked for, tons of new toys, a video game system and a new phone.

All of his parent’s important friends were there as well as their children. The unfortunate part was that he hated most of them, the other kids were terrible. He never felt as if he had a real friend, they all seemed to want something from him. Everyone seemed to think he would grow up to be like his dad, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a politician.

As his parties went though, it wasn’t bad. His dad had even been there for breakfast on his birthday![1]

The problem was, the person he wanted to see most on his birthday, hadn’t stopped by. She had sent him a card; she always did, she was good about that, but he missed her. It had said much the same as it always had, something about everyone else being beneath him and to never show mercy.[2] In the card had been €200 for “mischief” which meant he would likely put it in his piggy bank and forget it existed.

He missed the old gardener as well, he had sent him a book set again this year. Last year it had been _The Hobbit_ and _The Lord of the Rings_ series in a very lovely leather-bound set. The year before that, on his eleventh birthday, he had been gifted a set of the _Harry Potter_ series. He had devoured both sets within a few weeks of his birthday. He loved books and reading, he loved adventure and heroics. This year, he had been gifted _The Hunger Games_ series. He wasn’t sure if he should read them, he remembered his father angrily yelling about the movies when they were still in theaters. He couldn’t remember why he didn’t like them though.

He loved hearing from them, but he missed them. Their packages had arrived early that morning and were waiting for him before lunch.

Things in his life were changing too fast, there were things he was starting to notice about himself that he didn’t much like. His personality was changing, he had never liked being mean, but it made his mom notice him. He had gotten into a lot of trouble at school this year and regardless of what he did, it never seemed to mater.[3] They would just donate to the school and he would be right back in class, his father off in America and his mother doing whatever she did with her charities.[4]

The thing was, he didn’t want to be like them.

He wanted to be like Brother Francis, he was an old, gentle soul and had always been so happy. It was clear the man had little money but somehow enjoyed life regardless. He had taught him early on to love books and to love other creatures.

Even his Nanny, who had often told him to “crush the weak under the heel of his boot,” would often be caught caring for the small animals that ended up in their back garden. She had a soft spot for snakes especially, often toting them around and placing them in spots she claimed were “perfect for sunning.” Truthfully, he thought, the only time he remembered Nanny being mean was when she would yell at the plants to “do better”, the willow tree he had planted with Brother Francis.

It was getting late, he knew he should go in, but he didn’t want to. He wasn’t ready for his Birthday to be over. There was a spot near the back of the garden where there was very little light pollution. He had taken a blanket out earlier in the evening to read and lay in the late sun. He was enjoying the book, but it had gotten too dark to read.

He truly did miss them, when he was little and his mother and father were away, Nanny would often take him here, put a blanket down and cuddle with him as they looked at the stars.

She knew the names of every single one and could point out the different constellations.[5]

His favorite times though, were when Brother Francis would bring them cocoa in a thermos and Nanny would complain he’d made it too sweet but would sip it, all the same, usually dipping biscuits into the steaming drink.

He wished they were there, he was pretty sure his mother had fired them for having a relationship. Thinking back to those nights, he was certain of it. The way they would look at one another when the other wasn’t looking. He may have been little, but he swore he could feel it.

They loved him too, he was very sure of that.

Lost in thought he didn’t see the large black snake until it was curled beside him on the blanket.

At first, his initial reaction was to run, but he recognized the snake.

It was the one that Brother Francis would sometimes have around his neck when he was working outside. It was friendly but large, and it was looking at him.

“Er, hello?”

The snake stuck it’s tongue out and made a “thibt” noise.

“Do you miss him?” it looked at him curiously.

“Brother Francis, that is, he used to carry you around and let me pet you.” He tentatively reached a hand out and the snake raised its head and touched it in a cat-like manner.

The boy gently rubbed the snake’s face for a moment before speaking again, “we used to lay out here, they sent me a card you know but I really do miss them.”

An owl hooted its disapproval in the shadows.[6]

“I like to think they left and got married, maybe they are living in a fairytale cottage by the sea. What do you think?” It was rather dark, but the snake looked embarrassed? He was also nearly certain he’d heard the owl give a surprised squeak.[7]

He yawned, he was comfortable and sleepy.

He was suddenly very uninterested in having a conversation. He blinked his eyes a few times.

The stars up above him twinkled and the light of the half-moon cast shadows from the big willow tree beside him. He wasn’t scared though if anything he felt safer than he had in a long time, though he couldn’t place just why.

Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

From the shadows, a man dressed in tan stepped out, armed with a warm tartan blanket that smelled of dust and cinnamon. He tucked the child in and ruffled his hair.

A man in dark clothes was suddenly beside him, bending down to caress the child’s cheek and to lovingly kiss his forehead.

“Do you think he’s going to be ok?” asked Crowley.

The angel tilted his head, “I do, he is such a sweet child.” He looked ashamed, “I’m so glad it wasn’t him Crowley, I love Adam, but we raised him. If things had of gone wrong, we would have had to watch him die or worse, kill him ourselves.”

A strange emotion struck him, “We would have found a way to save him, angel, I wouldn’t have let him, couldn’t have…” he sighed.

“We could visit him,” he whispered. His golden eyes resting on the sleeping boy.

Aziraphale shook his head, “We promised we wouldn’t interfere anymore. We can’t.”

“Why not? He needs us, his parents are absolute sshite, you know that! It’ss his-s birthday and they didn’t even tuck him into bed!” He growled, “or check on him?” his hands raked through his red hair, causing it to stick up in odd directions.

Quietly now, in a whisper he said, “he needs a friend Aziraphale.”

The angel nodded, “what if we gift him a pet? A friend to keep him company when we can’t?”

Crowley nodded, “A dog maybe? Adam would be lost without Dog.”

Aziraphale shook his head, “No, maybe a bird?”

Crowley wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Why would anyone want a bird? What about a nice little ball python? He’s good with snakes!”

“Unless that snake is you, my dear, I do not believe he would want it.”

Crowley looked up, a smile on his face, “What about a kitten? He is not the type for a dog, he needs something independent but loving, spirited but soft.”

The angel smiled wide and nodded. He snapped his fingers and in his hands was a kitten.[8]

It was an intelligent kitten, with ginger fur and yellow eyes.

Aziraphale held it up, “Now, you are to stay here with your master until he wakes in the morning.”

The kitten purred at him.

Crowley picked up the kitten and it looked at him curiously. A wave of something washed over the kitten, “Yup… that should do the trick. Now, you take care of him, understood?”

The kitten blinked.

He set it down and it wobbled over to the sleeping boy before curing itself up beside his neck.

The kitten, whom he would eventually name Bilbo, would be his constant companion.

In the morning when he woke up, the cats soft ginger fur would be against his face and the calming purr would soothe his sadness.

He would find himself often reading to his cat and talking to him when he was at his loneliest, when his parents were away, and the house staff paid him no mind.

In later years, when he came out to his parents, the cat would comfort his tears of rejection.

When he graduated University with a degree in English literature instead of political science, the cat would give him a congratulatory head bump.

And when he moved in with his fiancé, he would very quickly put the small yappy dog in his place.

[1] Warlock loved his father, but he was always away. Having breakfast with his dad was a rare but much-loved occasion. He had been on his phone most of the time, but he had asked him about school and if he was playing any sports.

[2] He sometimes wondered if she had been a very aggressive life coach before becoming a nanny.

[3] He eventually gave up on being rowdy in class and started speaking up. His teachers had been thrilled, he was a bright child and had some interesting points when dealing with classic literature.

[4] He would soon come to find out that his parents had both been having affairs when news of his father’s hit the media. Their marriage would somehow survive, for appearance sake and the few months of having his father and mother nearby would end abruptly.

[5] When nobody else was around, she would sometimes call him her little star.

[6] He’d sent more than a card, thank you very much!

[7] Later that evening, in the back of a bookstore, two celestial beings would be slightly pink cheeked and most definitely not talking about _that_ as they sipped their wine and peaked at the other over the glass discreetly.

[8] You can never just miracle up a living creature, not anymore anyway, but an animal shelter found itself with one less kitten that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Prompt Requests or to Just follow me, [Click Here](https://aziraphalesrarebooks.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock meets Adam for the first time.
> 
> This fic has been updated. I haven't taken this down yet because the second half hasn't been edited as of yet. If you'd like to read the update version, follow this link: [Returning Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147538)

Warlock had officially been offered a position as an adjunct professor at the University of London where he’d studied his postgraduate course. 

He’d been away from London longer than he’d like, those two years living in the city again had been magical and he’d been loathed to leave it; however, his doctorate course demanded him to leave England once again and travel back to the US. 

He’d ended up studying English Literature and Archival Science and would be teaching courses on both, filling in where necessary until he could hopefully get tenure. He had enjoyed teaching classes in the past, being able to talk openly about his passions and getting paid for it on top of that was his idea of the perfect job. 

His plane had landed not long ago, and he was waiting on his bags when he heard them, Aziraphale and Crowley were bickering as they made their way through the busy airport. He smiled brightly and waved to the two men shaped beings walking his way. Crowley; his dear nanny, pulled him into a tight embrace, “My little hellspawn, you haven’t been eating nearly enough.” 

He snorted, when they’d first told him the truth, he’d thought they were joking. When he realized they were being completely serious, well, he’d had a bit of a panic and then, with not much else to do, accepted it. 

He’d had questions, a lot of them, but they were patient with him as always and when it was settled, they took him out for dinner and dessert. 

They’d always been special to him, especially as a child when the world had at times been cruel. He hadn’t seen them since his graduation back in May. His father and mother had refused his invitation, too busy with whatever it was they were doing to come to see him receive his Doctorate. Crowley and Aziraphale however, had come with flowers and a camera and had gushed over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been required to pose so many times for pictures. It made him feel warm inside.

He knew they had mistaken him for the antichrist as a child, and from what he’d heard of the actual antichrist and everything that had happened in the week leading up to their eleventh birthday, well, he was thankful it wasn’t him. 

He’d been curious to meet the other man who’d been raised by his biological parents, but he’d gone off to study as soon as he had the chance and had been traveling ever since. He hoped eventually their paths would cross, from what he’d heard from Nanny, he was “a very nice boy,” even though Nanny had said that with a scoff. He knew that he’d dropped in a few times on Crowley and Aziraphale in the past and that they spoke often. 

“Nanny,” he hugged the man tightly, “I’ve missed you both!” pulling away from Crowley, he wrapped his arms around the other man. He looked at the two men and smiled widely again, “It is so good to be home! I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever.” 

The men walked out to the vintage car parked in a no-parking zone haphazardly. “I’ve always loved this car, I have no idea how you fit my booster seat in here,” he said as he slid into the backseat. “Do you remember the time we took that picnic to St. James Park? I was maybe six at the time?” 

This earned a laugh from the blonde, “you mean the time you lost your lunch in the backseat? I thought Crowley was going to go ballistic, instead, he soothed you and cleaned the mess. Probably why I was the gardener and not the nanny.”

Crowley snorted, “I never thought I’d get the smell out of here, it took four good miracles to get it out.”

“I don’t remember that,” he paused, creasing his eyebrows together, “I remember feeding the ducks and getting ice cream,” said Warlock.  
The blonde man smiled, “it was a nice day.” He thought back to that warm September day, it was one of the rare occasions they allowed themselves to be seen together before the failed apocalypse, they had been mistaken for a family by a mother and her young child. It had made his heart flutter to hear the words in his heart spoken aloud.  
Angels, as a rule, didn’t have children, but he certainly considered Warlock a son, or at least the closest thing he’d have to one. He knew Crowley did as well, he had always been a good boy and he was so thankful for him to be back in London. 

When they arrived at the shop, Warlock took his stuff up to the apartments above the shop. The majority of his belongings were being shipped in a month, for now, he planned to stay with Aziraphale and Crowley until he found a suitable apartment.  
The room was huge, larger he suspected than should be possible, nicer than any hotel he’d stayed at and the bed he swore would be moving with him into his new home as it was the most comfortable bed he’d ever laid in. it was a familiar room, he’d spent many a night here when he was still in grad school. He was sure it hadn’t even been there until he needed it one night back then. It was good to be home.

Dinner that night had been enjoyable, they’d caught up, gotten pleasantly drunk and made plans to visit their cottage before the semester began the week after next. They’d purchased it when he was around 12, they’d needed a break from the failed apocalypse and ended up living there for a decade until they got bored with the country life and moved back around the time they’d met again.

The next two days passed quickly, he was sure Crowley had interfered somehow with the relator as the apartment he had just leased should have been way out of his price range, but what was the point in having a demon as a Nanny if they couldn’t occasionally tip things in your favor? 

The trip to South Downs had done wonders for Warlock, the salty air and breeze made him feel more like himself than he had in some time. 

Being back in the states had been tough, Dowling was a well-known last name, especially when his father had been involved with some of the more infamous political scandals of the last few years involving his mistress, an illegitimate child and a payoff that had become sensationalized and broadcast on every major news outlet in the states. Aside from the many questions that had been asked, there was the fact his parents had stopped pretending to be friendly when he’d officially come out as a bi-ace man to them. The Christmas and birthday cards ended after the last letter he sent to them confirming their suspicions, and while it hurt badly, he knew he had two beings who loved him and that it would pass. 

It didn’t mean it was easy, the stress of his family and the constant reminders had made him miss England even more than he thought he would. He missed studying in the old bookshop the most, tired eyes being treated to a hot mug of cocoa or being tugged out to lunch to allow his brain to rest. Sitting at the kitchen table after pulling an all-nighter, having breakfast with the two men, well, it was perfect. 

Their little vacation from London passed quicker than anyone had wanted. 

Warlock settled into his new life, he published papers and taught classes. He had dinners with Crowley and Aziraphale, they went on trips to the beach house and on one occasion, Paris where they had the best crepes he’d ever tasted. Before he knew it, he was turning 30 and going on 3 years of professorship. 

The day was really like any other day, he’d taught classes, had lunch in the cafeteria and gossiped with his colleagues about the coming fall semester. “Fresh meat” as Lucy liked to call new professors and staff was the hot topic of the day. Lucy and her wife had been trying to set him up with nearly every person who started working at the college in the last two and a half years they’d been friends. As soon as they found out someone was single, they’d do their best to introduce them to Warlock. 

“I heard we are getting a new professor of religious studies, he’s apparently traveled the last few years making links between all great religions, no idea how they managed to get him on staff. Rumor has it he has already secured a book deal and maybe even a show on the telly!” Lucy said as Emma nibbled at her cheese sandwich. 

Warlock knew where this was going, they meant well, but really, he wasn’t interested. He rolled his eyes at the two women. 

“Stacy told me he’s bloody gorgeous too, better watch out Lucy dear, he may give you a run for your money” She winked flirtatiously at her wife. They were utterly devoted to one another and part of him wished he could find that, but his relationships in the past had failed the moment they found out he was asexual. He didn’t mind sex, but he just wasn’t that interested in it either.

The other woman rolled her eyes, “nobody can be that perfect Em, nobody.” 

He was about to mention Tom Hiddleston when his phone rang, “one mo. ladies.” He got up and answered the phone, thankful to be away from that conversation.

It was Aziraphale, “Hey Az, how are you today?” he asked the man on the other end of the phone. 

“Very well my dear boy, I just wanted to let you know we would be at the University today. Adam just gave us a call to let us know he had gotten a job there and wanted to have dinner tonight. When I mentioned you worked there as well, he suggested you come too!”  
Warlock frowned, he’d always been a bit jealous of the other man, he didn’t know much about him, they’d told him what he’d asked but not much else. He knew they were in contact and had visited him a few times when he was home, but aside from that, he knew nothing of him. “I get off around 6 today when my class ends, it’s the last class of summer semester so it may run over while students finish their exams. Do you mind meeting me at my office?” 

He swore he could hear Aziraphale smile through the phone, “Of course dear boy, we will see you then! There is a new Italian place we’ve been wanting to try that supposedly does amazing things with seafood! Ta!” 

The phone clicked and he looked up at the women staring intently at him. “I think I’m going to dinner with the new professor tonight. What did you say his name was?” 

Lucy beamed, “Adam Young!” 

Warlock sighed, there would be questions tomorrow. 

The young woman handed in her final exam, he was running late but they would have to be patient, she was a good student but tended to be a nervous tester. 

Blue books in hand, he walked to his office. They weren’t here yet thankfully, he quickly changed shirts into something a bit nicer he kept here on the off chance of a dinner emergency and packed his briefcase. His dark hair was messy, and he was a bit exhausted, but he thought he looked quite nice. He was getting nervous if he were being honest with himself. 

Why should he be nervous? He had often wondered what the man would be like, he hoped he made it through the night without embarrassing himself. Of all the universities in London, why did he have to pick his? What if they liked him more than they liked him? He was the antichrist, after all, that fact alone made him a little warry of the man. He supposed he should be fair, he didn’t like to be judged by his father, he shouldn’t do it to Adam either. Besides, the two most important people in his life were an angel and a demon, he probably shouldn’t judge him too harshly. 

There was a knock on his door interrupting him from his quickly spiraling thoughts, he stood up from his desk, grabbed his briefcase and opened the door, walking through and turning to lock it once more. 

“Lock, how was your day?” asked his Nanny. 

He grinned at the demon, “overall not terrible, I can’t wait to dig into some pasta. I had an early lunch and I’m starved!”

“Adam and Aziraphale are outside, Aziraphale wanted to take a look at the courtyard. You know how he is” said Crowley. 

As they turned the corner, he saw Aziraphale and a tall man standing with their backs to them. He had curly brown hair, sun-kissed skin, and you could see his lithe muscles outlined against his tight shirt.  
He swallowed. 

His nerves were jumpy, and his heart was racing. In the back of his mind, something was telling him to pay attention, something major was about to happen but between his racing heart, jealousy, and nervousness, he pushed the thought away. 

Time slowed. 

Crowley touched Aziraphale’s arm, the angel turned around; smiling widely at him, which in turn caused Adam to turn around as well.  
Warlock had never, under any circumstance believed in anything as silly as love at first sight or soulmates, even the idea of fated couples made him roll his eyes. Fanciful notions like that were ridiculous and didn’t happen outside of a romance novel.

However, as his eyes locked with Adam’s for the first time, he became aware of three things. One, that his heart had just skipped a beat. Two, that he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And three, he could so very easily fall in love with this man. The last thought scared him immensely. 

His eyes were soft but mischievous with a slight crinkle around them. His hair looked soft, as does his mouth. He looks so bloody confident he wants to scream; this man has the confidence of someone who knows they are handsome and intelligent and is very aware of both of those facts. 

Adam reached a hand towards Warlock and he dumbly accepts, grasping his soft, firm hand with his slightly sweaty one.  
Warlock glanced down at their hands, and back up to his eyes.  
Adam grinned even wider. 

The bastard. 

“I’ve heard so much about you, I’ve been assured you are the person to go to if I need help finding my way around campus.” He nods, looking entirely out of sorts with everything that had just happened in the last minute. 

He cleared his throat. 

Takes a deep breath, “I went here for my postgrad and I’ve now worked here nearly three years. It’s a great school, you’ll like it.” He tries to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace than anything else. Thank god his voice hadn’t cracked.

Nobody had ever had this effect on him. 

How the fuck was he to have dinner with this man and survive it?

As it turned out, Adam was an incredibly good conversationist. He wasn’t at all what he had expected. Aside from being gorgeous, he was a smart man and had had so many incredible adventures traveling he was only a tad bit jealous. 

He learned that Adam had become interested in religion after finding out his origins and needing a way to cope. While he didn’t speak much of his unheavenly father, he did speak a good bit about his adoptive dad. It hurt, to know he should have had these wonderful parents but had instead been mistaken for someone he wasn’t and getting stuck with the Dowling’s.

Even still, he just couldn’t hate the man. 

He found that he genuinely liked him. Beyond the looks and his confidence, he was charming and fun to talk to. He felt as if he could easily spend hours talking to the other man and it scared him.  
Dinner went well, and when he was dropped at his apartment that night, he offered Adam his number in case he needed help as he got settled in the University and London. Adam promised to call him soon to set up lunch. 

As he lay in bed that night, he wondered why above all other emotions that seemed to be jumbled in his mess of a heart, why hope seemed to be the most recognizable. 

Across London, above an old bookshop in Soho, a curly-haired brunette lay in bed as well, a smile gracing his handsome face. He had to give it to his grandmother, he certainly hadn’t anticipated this, but the other man had been so endearingly shy, so perfect he couldn’t blame her one bit. He looked forward to what was to come, he still could feel the imprint of the other man’s hand in his own and he decided then that it should be where it stayed. He itched to get to know him better, to maybe get the chance to hold his hand again but this time longer.

As he drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts of consciousness were that he would be kept safe from any who would do him harm; including death himself. 

Downstairs in a bookshop in Soho London, an angel and a demon were drinking. Cuddled close together, unaware of the part they’d played in the relationship between their sweet Warlock; the child who belonged to them in all the ways that counted, and their godson, Adam. 

In a cottage in Tadfield, a woman was returning from dinner with two dear friends of hers. She smiles up at the stars, knowing that all is well. She should rest her eyes, her grandson would be visiting in the morning and would need her full attention.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr: AziraphalesRareBooks.Tumblr.Com


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